


I See Only You

by Mavennica



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 04:11:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14072631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mavennica/pseuds/Mavennica
Summary: Hermione saved Severus, but her actions had terrible consequences.  Told in a series of dreams and nightmares.





	1. The First Nightmare (Severus)

**Author's Note:**

> **Severus and Hermione have been married for an indeterminate amount of time. I have made a vague mention to “marriage under duress,” but this is not a “marriage law” story.**

________________________________________

Hermione opened the door to the cold, sterile room where Severus lay bled to death. She walked to the morgue slab and gazed down at her deceased husband; tentatively stroking his face, she pushed his hair out of the way so she could close his eyes.

What a senseless, unnecessary waste. There was no reason for him to die.

Her hands drifted down his chest up to his shoulders, down his long arms to his slender hands. She turned his left arm over and pushed up the sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark.

"I'm so sorry it has to be like this, Severus," she sighed, "but it's the only way I know how." Hermione was risking so much by doing this. Her life was quite possibly on the line, but he was worth it. By the Gods, he was worth her life and so much more. He'd earned this, but she knew that no matter how he resented her, he would never accept the danger to her.

_All the better to do it while he can't object._

She pulled from her sleeves a silver dagger. It flashed coldly as it reflected the morgue's soulless fluorescent lighting. Taking a deep breath to steady her hands, Hermione cut a deep gash in Severus's arm from his wrist nearly to his elbow, neatly bisecting his Dark Mark. Her chest ached with longing and sadness when her knife came away from the cut clean.

Closing her eyes, Hermione began chanting a wandless spell, one she had chanced upon while snooping through Severus's library one night as he lay in a deep sleep from their vigorous coupling.

_The blood of my life_   
_For the blood of yours._   
_The beat of my heart_   
_Weakens as it pours._   
_Come back to me now_   
_And search you for me._   
_Drink life from my soul_   
_For eternity._

The knife flashed once more as Hermione cut her left arm in the same way she had sliced her husband's. She was startled that it didn't hurt, and she stopped chanting as her concentration faltered. Pain blossomed in Hermione's arm; she hissed and immediately resumed chanting, a numbing coldness chasing the pain away. Hermione moved her arm to hover over Severus's sliced-open Dark Mark, and blood pulsed out of her wound onto his.

The Mark made a gurgling sound when her hot blood splattered onto it. After a moment the ink began to stir, and it reached up and connected to the bleeding gash on her arm. Hermione felt a gentle suction along the wound as the ink settled into the seam, but it wasn't an unpleasant sensation. Hermione had thought her blood would simply heal his wound and revive him, but it was an old book, so perhaps the author had left out a few minor details. She made herself comfortable as the Dark Mark fed on her blood.

Hermione began to feel lightheaded; she had given Severus as much blood as her arithmantic calculations dictated, and it was time to pull away. She made to get up but couldn't; the ink from the Dark Mark had imbedded itself deeply into her self-inflicted injury. Hermione tugged harder and gasped as pain radiated outward from the ink. She sat back down, fighting a growing sense of panic as the suction increased. _This wasn't in the book!_ She had Blood-Replenishing Potion with her to take afterwards, but blood replenishers weren't fast-acting.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Nowhere in her calculations had it even hinted that he could drain her dry.  
________________________________________

Severus experienced an agony like no other when molten misery roared up from his left arm and detonated in his chest. Searing lava poured through his veins, and he had the distinct impression that every scar on his body had caught fire. Liquid flame fell from his eyes and poured down his cheeks as he imagined himself in his rightful place in the bowels of Hell.

The dark wizard opened his eyes expecting to see brimstone and flames. Instead, his gaze landed on the visage of his pale and panicked young wife. His eyes followed her arm down, and he finally saw the source of all the punishing heat. His face fell when he recognized her words, and he struggled to move his arm away from her, to wrest her from the Dark Mark's grasp.

"Oh gods, Hermione, no! Stop, _STOP!_ " Horror bloomed within him, bright and terrible, when he realized that the more blood she lost the better he began to feel. _She has no idea what she's doing! Bloodless vampires nearly destroyed the world! Merlin, Nimue, Morgana, anyone, stop her before it's too late!_

No dead historical figures were listening that day.  
________________________________________

Hermione slumped over, no longer able to hold herself upright. She looked up at her husband as he yelled at her, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. _No matter, he yells at me for everything,_ she thought, her mind beginning to drift. _It's probably just another way I don't measure up to Saint Lily._

She summoned the last of her strength to reach up with the hand that wasn't held hostage by the Dark Mark and caress her husband's face. Hermione made sure to focus on Severus's lovely eyes, for she knew she might not ever see them again.

"I had to give you a chance, Severus," she croaked, her lungs desperately trying to power her voice. "I knew this was designed to Turn you, but if enough blood was given at the beginning, you wouldn't ever have to hunt." She began to tremble. "I calculated what amount of blood it would take for the spell to resurrect you instead."

He flipped through Hermione's memories, and real honest-to-gods fear stabbed through Severus Snape's blackened soul for the first time since he entered Lily Potter's house that fateful night. He had come to love the young woman who had been foisted upon him, and even though Lily had been the deciding factor in which direction he went, it was the thought of keeping the world safe for Hermione that had driven him these last months. She had been his light at the end of the tunnel. What would he do if her light went out? How would Hermione ever know that Lily was no longer his rudder through the darkness?

He would be truly lost.

His mouth stung, pulling him from his morbid reverie. He explored with his tongue and found what he dreaded: two sets of sharp fangs, one larger than the other, had broken through his upper gums. The fangs proved him correct on one other notion: Hermione hadn't figured his Dark Mark into her equations because she thought that it would have died when Severus did.

Hermione wasn't often wrong, but she never did anything by halves, so on the rare occasions when Hermione was wrong, Hermione was spectacularly wrong. Severus's pain faded away completely as Hermione let loose one last whimper and became still. The Dark Mark pulled away and settled itself back on his arm.

"Severus, are you there? I can't see."

Shuddering arms enveloped her. "I'm here, Hermione." He paused a moment to keep his voice from cracking with emotion. "Hermione, why did you do this? Why?"

"You would have been free," she whispered, every breath a little bit shallower than the one before. "If I had lived, I would have agreed to a magical annulment since you married me under duress. If I had died, well, you get the idea." She tried to wave her hand in a dismissive gesture but could only manage a few fingers. "You deserved to be happy."

Severus's control finally slipped. "I was happy with you," he mumbled into her ear, his breath catching with emotion. "I was happy with you." He began to rock her gently.

"Oh."

"Do you have any idea what you've done, Hermione?"

Her voice was now only her breath. "What?"

"I'm a vampire who doesn't have to drink blood."

"That's good, isn't it?"

Severus laughed with no humor whatsoever. "I still have to feed."

Hermione spent the next few minutes slipping in and out of consciousness. Severus never stopped rocking her.

"Wh..." She licked her lips with a sandpaper tongue. "What do you eat?"

Severus turned her to face him. "The spell you cast is the one used to create bloodless vampires. Dementors." He looked over her shoulder into nothing. "The Dark Mark is all that has kept my mind intact." He held her tighter. "It was the last copy of the spell. I was supposed to destroy it, but I am loath to burn any book." After a moment he looked into her eyes. "I eat souls, Mrs. Snape, and I am bound by the spell you cast to eat the first one I see." His eyes filled with despair. "And I see only you."

Hermione was surprised that he was so gentle when he kissed her. It didn't even hurt.  
________________________________________

Hermione awoke in the middle of the night to another of Severus's nightmares. _Which one this time?_ She got out of bed and walked around to his side of the mattress. Her husband's face was a visage of agony and despair. She knelt down and gently touched his forehead, gently brushing his hair behind his ear. "Oh my love. Is this one where I should wake you up or leave you to it?"

She made to get up when Severus let out a wail and began to sob. Red tears ran down his cheeks; he had cried out so hard he had broken the blood vessels in his eyes.

"Oh Nimue, the Dementor one! _Accio_ eye drops!" A drawer in the corner dresser opened, and a small bottle floated up and over to Hermione's outstretched hand. She cast a quick wandless binding charm on Severus they had created to keep him from moving.

One at a time, Hermione opened Severus's eyes and placed three drops in each one. The potion healed the broken capillaries, and she held a handkerchief to his cheeks as the potion also expressed the blood from his tear ducts.

As she was wiping his face clean with a dry cloth, she realized that Severus was awake and staring at her. "Are you alright, love?" she asked, sitting back on her knees and releasing the binding charm. "Did I wipe your eyes too hard again?"

He shook his head but didn't speak. She cocked her head to the side slightly, unconsciously imitating Crookshanks when he was confused. "Then what is it?"

Severus moved the covers and motioned for Hermione to lie back down next to him. She snuggled up next to his comforting warmth, and when they were both nestled under their blankets against the chill of the dungeons, Severus wrapped his arms around Hermione as tightly as he could, buried his face in her hair, and wept until he fell asleep.


	2. The Second Nightmare (Severus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus enlists Draco's help to revive Hermione, and his experiment goes awry.

**AN: _Quattuor Manus Adiuvantes_ translates from Latin as “four hands helping.”**

****************************************************************************

Severus Snape crept slowly down the darkened alley, his back flush against the aged brick. His steps were light; his dragonhide boots made no sound as they fell between the flotsam that dotted the ill-kept pavement. An aura of darkness crept along with him as a dog would a beloved master. Ahead, a young blond man fiddled with bags of trash near a dumpster. 

As Severus stepped closer, he could smell the garbage the waiter was magically shrinking and levitating into the overflowing dumpster. The dark wizard sneered at the indignant grumbles coming from the blond man who obviously thought himself ill-used by handling garbage. 

In Severus’s opinion, the waiter deserved to have his hands elbow-deep in offal; the idiot should have shrunken the trash before banishing it. It occurred to him then that the tables were enchanted by Ministry janitors to clean themselves, teleporting all garbage to the dumpster, but if the young blond wizard couldn’t be bothered to weave a simple shrinking charm in between the threads of a cleaning spell, then the lazy thing got what he deserved. 

The dark man grimaced; Hermione would think him uncharitable if she had heard that. 

_Hermione…_

Pushing thoughts of his young wife aside, Severus focused on the task at hand. He had to test his newest spell; it might be the only thing that could revive her. He steeled himself, the darkness of his eyes spreading outward, devouring the white. Two obsidian orbs glittered dangerously as he silently stepped forward, grasped the unsuspecting waiter on the right shoulder, and spun him around.

_“Quattuor Manus Adiuvantes,”_ whispered the Potions Master. 

Four nearly-invisible hands, attached to four equally transparent but impossibly long arms, sprung from Snape’s back and buried themselves into the chest of the unsuspecting waiter. The young man tried to scream, but one of the shimmering hands grasped his vocal cords and disabled them.

The hands quickly set to work. Each one of the waiter’s chakras was disengaged, and the man’s soul was lifted out of his body and into the darkness surrounding the other wizard. Severus could feel the darkness pulling at the edges of the man’s soul, fraying it slightly, begging to devour it, but the four hands gestured the darkness away.

The blond waiter slumped against Snape. His grey eyes were open but blank, and he did not fight when Severus set him gently on the ground and propped him up against the filthy brick wall beside the stinking dumpster. The blond man looked exactly as if he had been kissed by a Dementor, yet nothing had touched his lips.

Severus crouched down in front of the young man, his hands on either side of his head. The four arms, carrying the young man’s soul, once again buried themselves in the waiter’s chest. Severus marveled at their dexterity as they activated the man’s chakras and reattached his soul. The waiter shuddered, his eyes blinking furiously. At last the young man ceased shaking and opened his eyes.

“How do you feel?” Severus peered at the blond man sharply, checking for any obvious signs of chakra misalignment. The soul reattachment had to be perfect; he had only one chance with Hermione, and he wasn’t about to lose her to a preventable mistake on his part. All of Severus’s magic had been wandless since his change, and he sometimes struggled to control the immense power of it. 

The waiter looked up, his eyes full of fury. “I’m fine, you prickless shit!” He stood up and snarled at his soiled clothing in disgust. “What the _fuck_ was that all about, Severus?” A wave of his wand set his uniform and apron to rights. “I wasn’t due in for volunteer testing until tomorrow morning.”

Severus sat back, his muscles relaxing. If Draco was still able to swear at him like that, the young man stood a good chance of having survived the experiment intact. “I made a breakthrough in my arithmantic calculations, but they indicated that the test subject had to be unaware of what was to happen.” 

Draco smirked as he resumed cleaning up the trash scattered around the dumpster. “‘A breakthrough in your arithmantic calculations?’” he quoted snidely, shaking his head. “Merlin, you’re starting to sound like Granger.” 

After a moment the dark wizard softly spoke. “Snape.”

Draco’s brows furrowed in puzzlement. “Snape?”

“She took my last name when we married, Draco.” A look of overwhelming sadness passed over his face but was gone so quickly the young man wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t imagined it. “She forced it.”

The blond man whistled. “Holy fuck, Severus. Five hundred galleons say she knew what she was doing when she did it, too. Potter is going to shit a brick when he finds out his best friend put her soul up as collateral for yours.”

Snape bristled at the mention of Potter. “Yes, well, with you plowing him he shouldn’t have any problems passing it.”

Draco laughed heartily. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said so. ‘Thick as a brick’ and all that.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re a monster, Severus, but we all have to have a hobby.” 

Draco shrunk the last of the garbage into the dumpster. After making sure his apron was straight and spelling a piece of corn off his shoe, he faced the Potions Master. “Did you even try to stop her?”

Severus huffed in indignation. “As a matter of fact, yes, I tried to stop her. She made a verbal oath before I could shut her up.” He stepped towards Draco menacingly. “Incidentally, why do you even care? I find it very suspicious that you volunteered to assist us. Slytherins don’t volunteer for anything unless it benefits them.” 

Draco stepped toward Severus, the young man’s handsome face marred by an ugly sneer. “Why don’t you look inside my mind and find out?”

The dark wizard blanched; he stepped back from Draco, sickened. 

Draco examined his manicure, grateful that the charm kept trash from getting under his nails. “That’s right, Severus, you can’t, not without flaying my mind to shreds.”

“You wouldn’t be flayed, boy, you’d be consumed,” Severus rasped, fighting to regain control. _The things Malfoy has witnessed. Gods, the delicious evil of it. Stop, stop it! Get a hold of yourself! You bluffed the Dark Lord, for fuck’s sake, you can handle being cursed. You can do this. You can do this for Hermione. Hermione…_

Draco watched, fascinated, as the train of thought wound its way across Snape’s features. _It’s a good thing he’s done spying,_ Draco thought. _We’d be right fucked otherwise._

Growing concerned, Draco put his hand on Severus’s shoulder. Before he knew what had happened, Snape slammed him against the brick wall, trapping Draco between the hardness of the wall and the cold ice of the dark wizard’s countenance. Severus’s eyes went solid black as he cast a nonverbal _Petrificus Totalis._

Draco was frozen in place, not even able to blink. His mouth went dry. _Oh shit…_

Severus’s breath wafted over him. Draco smelled Quidditch equipment, broom polish, and sweat. Horror dawned on him when he realized his grave mistake in provoking his Potions Master. Draco focused all his willpower, pooling his magical force into a single word: _MOVE._

“You smell Potter, I know you do,” Severus drawled, his voice oddly doubled, sounding as if two recordings were being played with one a microsecond off from the other. “Think of him as I penetrate your mind.” Severus took a deep breath and whispered, _“Legilimens.”_ The word quietly echoed down both sides of the alley leaving a _Muffliato_ in its wake.

Severus knew when to stop; he had learned what “too far” felt like, but the hate and fear inside Draco’s soul was too much, and Severus had been underfeeding himself for too long. The darkness which had been biding its time as a passive companion overwhelmed them both, and it poured from Severus’s eyes and mouth down Draco’s throat. 

Draco tried to scream, but he choked as his mind was being unhooked and shredded. He soon forgot why he wanted to scream, and then what screaming even was. Severus fed from Draco’s very essence until Draco had nothing more to give.

********************************************************************

Hermione awoke from her slumber when she felt the bed shake. She turned to her side to see her Severus thrashing in another nightmare. _“Legilimens,”_ he whispered softly.

_It’s the one with Draco,_ she realized, sitting up slowly so she wouldn’t spook her husband. She waited until he had stopped moving and his breath settled into a smooth rhythm before approaching him. His chest was the only thing moving, but she knew if she didn’t wake him Severus would have a terrible headache the next day from holding the mental spell all night.

Hermione went to his side of the bed and sat near him, softly stroking his grizzled face. She bent down and kissed him on his hooked nose. “Severus, love, wake up.” She brushed his ebony hair from his pale face.

“Mmmph,” Severus uttered, his brows furrowed in concentration. He slowly opened his eyes to the sight of his wife’s hair illuminated by moonlight. After a moment he moved back, reached out for her, and pulled her under the covers, her back to his chest, while softly kissing her neck. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked quietly, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. 

It was always the same after Severus had the nightmare about Draco. Hermione shook her head and rolled over, cradling his head against her chest. He nuzzled between her soft breasts and inhaled, his nose reveling in the pure scent of her skin. 

Hermione waited until Severus had settled himself comfortably before beginning to stroke his fine hair, softly crooning to him how much she wanted him, how much she needed him, how much she loved him, and that he hadn’t hurt her. Severus wrapped his arms around her and relaxed, letting her quiet voice carry him away from his memory of the night he killed his godson.


	3. The Third Nightmare (Hermione)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione dreams of her time in the darkness, and Severus vows to heal her mind.

Running, running, always running through the darkness; Hermione couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t running. She was so tired of constantly putting one foot in front of the other. She wanted to stop, to feel her feet side by side for once, but _He_ wouldn’t let her.

A light appeared in the solid darkness, and Hermione ran to it. She caught a glimpse of a black-haired boy sobbing in a crib and an equally black-haired man looming over him. She could hear the man screaming at the child in a drunken fury, but she couldn’t make out what he was bellowing. She moved closer, not paying attention to the quicksand dotting the area.

_He_ appeared, robes and hair flying even though she could feel no wind. His dark eyes bore into hers, and he swooped at her like a giant bat. “Run from here, little girl.”

Hermione froze in panic, unaware that she had finally stopped running. The dark-eyed man bared his double fangs as he lunged for her, and when he was so close she could feel his cold breath in her face, he brandished a monstrous cock and growled, “Flee from this place before I rape you to death.” 

The man lunged once more, and Hermione took off like a shot, her panic exploding. She ran as hard as she could; her lungs worked like a bellows in her chest as adrenaline fueled her pace. A stitch crept over her left side, but she ignored it as best she could. _He_ flew away as soon as she had cleared the quicksand.

The air around her grew thick after a time, and it was becoming harder to run. The darkness coalesced into a swirling mass around Hermione’s feet, tripping her. She flew forward, her momentum carrying her through the dark. 

Up, down, left, right; these words lost their meaning as Hermione sailed through the darkness. Areas of grey light appeared on either side of her along with vignettes of a black-haired child.

After a while, the scenes began to include a red-haired girl, and the black-haired boy was obviously smitten with her. Hermione didn’t recognize her, but she hated her just the same. She hated her perfect hair, her perfect skin, her perfect eyes, her perfect form, and her perfect laugh. 

A soft voice whispered out of the darkness. “Why do you hate her?”

Hermione jumped. She had been so distracted with hating the red-haired girl that she’d not been paying attention. “Who are you?”

“A friend.”

“Not good enough.” _Constant vigilance!_ “Show yourself!”

The voice sighed gently, sounding almost like a hiss. “My form was taken from me.” 

Hermione, ever the swot, couldn’t resist a mystery. “Who took it from you?”

A slight breeze, no stronger than a puff of air, slid up her left arm. “The son of that red-haired girl took it.”

Hermione instantly felt a twinge of sympathy; she hated that red-haired girl’s cruel perfection, and she must have passed some of that cruelty down to her son. She made a small sound of pity. “That terrible girl. It was all her fault, wasn’t it?”

She felt the darkness around her nod in agreement. “Yes, it all started with her. She was awful to that poor little black-haired boy, and then her son was mean to me.”

The more Hermione spoke with her new friend the slower her pace, and she was glad of it. She was tired of running, tired of moving, and to stand still in one area was all she wanted. She slowed to a stop, and the presence that had accompanied her came to rest beside her.

Now that Hermione was still, the images were no longer simply fleeting impressions. The images surrounded her; the red-haired girl loomed in front of Hermione as if on a movie screen. Hate blossomed in Hermione’s heart, and blackness poured down from her chest to the underside of her left arm.

Her new friend took form, and Hermione looked into the face of what had been a man but now resembled more of a snake. He had slits where his nostrils should be, and his eyes were red as blood. She gasped and reached out for him. “What did her son _do_ to you?”

Shaking his head, her newly-visible companion sighed in despair. “It is too long a tale, and I wish to speak of other things.” He stepped closer, looking down at her with his ruby eyes. “I am not the only one who has been hurt.”

After a pause Hermione choked out, “Me?”

Her friend nodded sadly. “The red-haired girl has hurt you as well.”

“Oh yes, I hate her,” she said, and then tilted her head. “Though I’m not sure what I hate her for.”

He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. “The black-haired boy sent you away because of her.”

Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Sent me away?” She backed away from her new friend’s grasp. “Whatever do you mean?”

His red eyes flashed. “You loved him, but he did not love you. He always loved the red-haired girl. Always. He could never love another, especially one as plain as you.”

Hermione squared her chest in indignation. “I am not plain!”

The man shook his head sadly. “My dear, isn’t it obvious?” He reached forward and touched the pooled darkness on the underside of her left forearm; a sickly green light began to emanate from it. “She is so perfect, so beautiful. Just look at her!”

The green energy traveled up her arm and into her chest. Tears poured down Hermione’s face as she glanced at the images of the red-haired girl. “She’s so pretty…”

“He sent you away because you could never compare to her. Oh, it’s not your fault, love,” he said kindly, wiping away her tears. “No one could compete against such an evil woman!”

She sniffed and wiped her face with her left arm, unconsciously smearing green-tinged darkness across her face. “She’s evil?”

Her friend smiled a toothy grin that would have made her nervous had he not hated the red-haired girl as much as she did. “Of course she’s evil! Think about it: she bewitched the man you loved and made him _Obliviate_ you; she made herself so perfect that every woman paled in comparison; and she taught her son to be just as cruel.” He held his arms open wide. “Just look what he did to me!”

Darkness gushed forth once more from Hermione’s chest and began to arrange itself in a design on the underside of her left forearm. “The hateful thing!” she hissed. “I simply had my heart broken, but you, _you_ were physically hurt!” She puffed out her chest. “None of her family or friends will ever hurt you again!”

Her friend smiled widely. “Do you promise?”

Hermione nodded. “Oh yes, my friend, I sw—“

_”QUATTUOR MANUS ADIUVANTES!”_

“NO!” Her new friend’s face contorted with rage. “I almost had her you fucking _traitor!_ ”

Four translucent hands reached out from the darkness and wrapped themselves around Hermione, and she screamed as they pulled her upward. Faster and faster they flew until Hermione could barely hear for the roaring wind in her ears.

Her speed increased constantly until she felt herself nearly coming apart. As she neared what could only be described as critical mass, the four hands released her, stretching her essence out into a thin sheet. 

She suddenly felt _connected_ at the base of her spine, and the feeling crawled up as the hands continued their work. When they reached the top of her head the universe exploded; her world consisted of light, heat, and endless energy. She felt her awareness expand at a frightening rate until she was nearly undone yet again, and it was only then that she became aware of her eyelids and decided to open them.

She became aware of two things simultaneously: a pair of black eyes was staring at her intently; and she could never in a million years measure up to the perfection that was Severus’s memory of Lily Evans.

****************************************************************

Severus first became aware of his wife’s distress when she kicked him in the back. He whirled around in the sheets, wand in his hand, when he saw that Hermione’s face was contorted in a grimace. He immediately put his wand back on the nightstand and walked over to Hermione’s side of the bed.

He didn’t have much experience with nightmares; usually it was Hermione bringing him back from the depths of Hades, but her sleep had been uncharacteristically troubled as of late. She had adamantly refused to tell him what her dreams consisted of, and she had taken her typical Gryffindor I’ll-take-care-of-it-myself-because-I-don’t-want-to-be-a-burden attitude, but it was to the point now that something had to be done.

Murmuring the spell Hermione used for when she had to clean his eyes, Severus immobilized his wife and then gently pried open one eye.

_”Legilimens,”_ he whispered, making sure Hermione was still asleep.

He was staggered by the depth of her emotion. Even after all this time, she still truly felt she could never measure up to Lily. She had seen how perfect Severus had painted Lily in his memories, but Hermione had never gotten to see herself through his eyes, how radiant he had painted her in his mind.

He left her mind and crawled into bed behind her, releasing the binding spell so he could cradle her in his arms. He vowed to himself that he would come up with a plan the next day to show her just how much she really meant to him, and he fell asleep with possibilities whirling in his head.


	4. The First Dream (Severus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione witnesses the aftermath of her husband's erotic dream, and it awakens the darkness left within her.

“Lily…”

Hermione’s eyes snapped open. She looked over at her bed partner and saw that Severus was in the throes of another dream. His cock was high and hard, tenting the blankets, and he was gently thrusting against them. He turned on his side facing her, binding his blankets around him tightly. Hermione could see that her sleeping husband was using them for resistance. She watched in macabre fascination as her husband dreamed about fucking his lost love. 

“Oh Lily, yes, unnnhhhh….”

He thrust faster and harder, the roughness of the blanket inflaming his ardor. When his thrusts lost their rhythm and he began to pant and whine, straining for release, Hermione sighed dejectedly and cupped the head of his covered cock, placing her thumb on the underside where the tip met the shaft. She knew his trips and triggers after all this time, so she applied just the right amount of pressure. 

“Liiilllyyy….”

He stiffened and came, his cock pulsing in Hermione’s hand. She withdrew when he stopped spurting and watched the moisture of his release seep up through the blankets. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Severus woke up spewing hot, sticky liquid, and he couldn’t move as the sinful pleasure rocketed through him, locking him into position. Sensations radiated out from his tightened sac, and he lay there stunned as his anal muscles trembled and pulsed in time to his spurts.

His body was suddenly released from its seizing rapture, and he melted into the bed as his muscles relaxed all at once. Severus felt his release moistening the sheets and marveled at it; he had no idea what he had been dreaming, but he hadn’t soiled his bed like that in decades. 

He moved to get his wand and clean up when he noticed Hermione quietly staring at him. Ashamed that she had witnessed his wet dream, Severus cast a quick cleansing charm and turned on his wife.

“It’s called a ‘nocturnal emission,’ Hermione,” he sneered at her. A cruel snarl marred his features. “I imagine Potter and Weasley messed in their sleeping bags more than once with you in the tent.”

Hermione gasped. She was already vulnerable and hurt from having to watch Severus’s erotic dream about Lily, so his barb regarding her and the boys’ stressful time in the tent hunting Horcruxes met no resistance and struck home. 

She clenched her jaw and went for her wand, but she was no match for the man who had been Voldemort’s best Death Eater. He disarmed her, but she twisted around and bit his wand hand hard; his ebony stiletto clattered harmlessly to the floor as he focused on trying to disengage his wife’s gnashing teeth. Both wands fell to the floor, forgotten, as they struggled on the bed.

“Release me at once, you little animal!” Severus snarled. The pain was penetrating the fog of his shame. “Hermione, let go!”

Her eyes flashed up to her husband’s and took in the grimace of his features. It reminded her of how his face had crumpled when he had come moaning Lily’s name, so she bit down harder, reveling in the taste of his blood as it spurted into her mouth.

As a last resort, Severus drew back his other hand. The motion itself sickened him after years of watching his father hit his mother, but he had to make Hermione let go. 

She felt his movement, and when she saw is other hand draw back she growled and released him. Hermione leaped from his grasp to the end of the bed, snarling with a mouthful of blood-stained teeth.

“Would you have really struck me, Severus?” she hissed, her eyes flashing with madness; something inside her had broken. “Would you have beaten me for the crime of not being Lily Evans?” 

Severus stopped in the middle of wrapping an emptied pillowcase around his wound. He was floored; what on earth did Lily Evans have to do with this? 

“Do you honestly think this is the first time you’ve dreamed of fucking her?” Hermione asked, rage flooding through her so much it crackled in her hair. “Do you know how many times I’ve finished you off when you dream of her? How many times I’ve thumbed your dick so you can hose down the bed and go back to sleep? Dozens, Severus. _Dozens!_ ” Her last word was uttered as a scream; pink-tinged spittle flew everywhere, and she launched herself at him.

Though Severus had been Voldemort’s best Death Eater, even he was unprepared for the intensity of Hermione’s assault. She slapped him, punched him, bit him, swore at him, called him things that were so inventive he filed them away for his own later use (though not at her). 

She landed a few good punches and bites before Severus got control of the situation. He spun her away from him, locked her thighs and ankles between his, pinned both arms behind her with one hand and grabbed her hair with the other, revealing her neck. She made to wiggle free, but his hand in her hair was unwavering, and she hissed when pain seared her scalp.

Severus leaned down to her ear. “Hermione,” he murmured in his softest purr, “stop.” He spoke softly into her ear but held her tightly, careful not to let her hurt herself in her rage. “Easy, Hermione, easy.” 

Ten minutes later Hermione stopped struggling, her madness spent. Exhausted, she slumped back against her husband’s strong chest and burst into tears. Heaving, wracking sobs tore through her, and her entire body shook with the strain. 

Severus held her until she quieted down, and he was about to release her when she began a whispered chant. He listened closely, wary of a wandless spell, but he only heard her utter the same phrase over and over: “I’m sorry I’m not Lily.”

His fury at his young wife instantly died. He had no idea he had been having these dreams of Lily, no idea how long he’d been dreaming of her, and no idea how many times Hermione had watched him dream-fuck her. 

He steeled his resolve. He was about to find out.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione awoke in a strange chair. It was soft and plushy, and it supported her back just right. She moved her leg a bit, and the chair moved along with her, cradling her limb. She moved all over, testing the chair, and every time it conformed to her every curve and bump. Fascinated, she tried getting up to have a look at its mechanics, but the chair held her down. She couldn’t get up. Panic began to set in as the chair’s comfort transformed into entrapment.

A hand on her shoulder stilled her movements. Severus came around and knelt before her, his face revealing nothing. “You are stuck here, Hermione, until you tell me what I want to know.”

She licked her lips in fear, her mouth suddenly dry. “I’ll tell you anything you want.”

A rueful grin played across his features. “I don’t think you’ll find it so easy to tell me what I want to know.” He stood up and paced back and forth in front of her. “Tell me, Hermione. Why do you hate Lily Evans so much?”

Her mouth snapped shut. She had not known what to expect, but it certainly hadn’t been this. She wasn’t sure how to proceed; Lily was a sacred cow to him, so she had to tread carefully where she was concerned. “What do you mean, Severus?”

He shook his head. “Ah, ah, ah, Hermione. No answering a question with a question. That’s a Slytherin prerogative.” He paced back and forth a few minutes more. “I will ask you again, Hermione. Why do you hate Lily Evans so much?”

“Why do you want to know?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Severus eyed her for a moment. “Why do you think I want to know?” 

Hermione looked down, defeated. She whispered something intelligible and sniffed.

Severus knelt in front of her. He put his hand under her chin and raised her face so he could look in her eyes. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I said, um, I-I said...” She closed her eyes as fresh tears poured down her face. 

This was too brutal; he wanted information, not to emotionally torture her. He obviously wasn’t going to get anywhere this way, so he resorted to his back-up plan. He walked behind the chair to a cabinet and brought out a vial. He unstoppered it, added three drops from another vial, and shook it a bit. 

By this time Hermione was openly sobbing. She had no idea how she had lost her footing with Severus regarding Lily Evans, but lost it she had, and badly. She was grateful when Severus offered her a small bottle marked “Calming Draught,” and so desperate was she for a moment’s respite that she downed the whole thing in one gulp.

A sense of peace descended upon her. Everything would be fine. Things would work out in the end; things had a way of doing so. She sighed with relief.

“Is that better, Hermione?”

“Yes, but it tasted awful.” She clamped a hand over mouth, and her eyes went wide when she realized it was not just a Calming Draught she’d taken. “Damn you.”

Severus smirked. “I’ve been damned for so long that one more won’t matter.” He grabbed a stool and sat in front of Hermione’s chair. “Now,” he said, grinning like a Cheshire cat and flashing his crooked yellow teeth, “we will get some answers.”

Hermione drew away from him in fear. The Veritaserum would loosen her tongue, and she had no idea how he would react. She briefly wondered if she would be homeless by dawn. 

“I will ask you one last time, my wife,” he said, standing to loom over her. “Why do you hate Lily Evans so much?”

Hermione felt like she would vomit. She tried to close her mouth, to not speak at all, but the potion’s compulsion was strong, and she was so very tired. “I hate her because you love her instead of me.”

He had suspected something like this. He sat back down on the stool and folded his arms. “Why do you think I love her instead of you?”

The Calming Draught was taking a firmer hold, and Hermione relaxed back into her chair. “You dream about her all the time, Severus. Erotic dreams, the kind which make you come in your sleep.”

“And how many times have I had these erotic dreams?”

She was safer now; she was in the realm of numbers. Numbers were good allies; they never lied. “You have dreamed of her sixty-four times in the last six months.”

Severus was stunned. He would have remembered that many wet dreams. “Why have you not said anything before now?”

She smiled a dreamy little smile. “You’ve never woken up before now. I’ve always let you sleep through them because when I help you come, I can feel that at least a little part of me is in your dreams.” 

It took a moment for Severus to assimilate this information. Hermione obviously believed that she had witnessed many “incidents.” His own wife, the one person with whom he felt he could share anything, didn’t think he loved her. How could her perspective be so off? Had her soul reattachment somehow gone wrong, and this was a delayed reaction?

He gazed down at his Dark Mark, and a terrible idea began to form. “Hermione?”

“Yes, Severus?” she answered, gazing at him with adoration.

“When you were in the darkness, were you alone?” He held his breath in anticipation.

“No.”

Damn. “Who was there with you?" On impulse he added, "What did he look like?”

“He said he was a friend, but he had funny eyes and a flat face.”

Double damn. Severus leaned forward. “Be more specific, please.”

Hermione smiled. “He said he was a friend of yours, and that Lily Evans’s son had hurt him.”

Triple damn. Severus held his head in his hands and groaned. He now knew why Hermione hated Lily so much. Voldemort had somehow reached her while she was in the darkness, and his recent dream had triggered whatever the bastard had left behind.

“Hermione?”

“Yes, Severus?”

“I want you to think back to this evening, when you woke me up from my dream.”

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t want to.”

Severus took her hands and held them between his. “Please, Hermione. Do it for me.”

She nodded, sighing in apprehension.

“I want you play the memory exactly as it happened, alright?”

She nodded again. 

Severus raised his wand. “ _Legilimens!_ ”


	5. The Second Dream (Hermione)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus uses unusual and unethical means to search Hermione's mind to find out just what she had seen.

Severus was pulled into Hermione’s memories. He saw flashes of earlier in the evening, rapid images and emotions connected to his “incident,” but when he tried to zero in on a particular moment, the mundane tasks of her daily life as a Ministry researcher blossomed into his vision.

“I said to concentrate on my dream, Hermione,” he grumbled, irritated that she was unable to follow such a simple instruction. He was worried about her, and his patience was wearing thin. “I don’t care what you ate for lunch today.”

“I can’t help it! Your meatloaf sandwiches are terrible.” She silently cursed whoever invented Veritaserum and fervently hoped he or she burned in the deepest pit of hell.

He sighed, the last of his patience gone. He was irritated at himself for not knowing what was wrong with her, and in his ire he snapped at her. “Fuck the meatloaf and focus on the damn dream!” 

A sneer bloomed on her face, calculating and deadly. “Why, Severus, so you can pull the memory and drop it in a Pensieve?” She leaned forward as far as the chair would allow. “Would you like to see all the times you’ve sleep-fucked a dead girl and blasted the sheets?”

Severus was shocked. In all the time he had known Hermione, from the moment she waved her hand in his class to when she replaced her last name with his, he had never heard her speak such filth. 

“Hermione,” he murmured, his brow furrowed in confusion, “what’s wrong with you?”

She sat back and looked up at him, dried tears marring her cheeks. “I don’t know.” Hermione sniffed and stared down at her lap. “I’m sorry I insulted Lily.” She looked back up at him, her light brown eyes wide and begging. Her voice dropped down to a whisper. “Please don’t make me leave, Severus, please. I’ll do better, I promise.”

He pinched the bridge of his crooked nose and sighed. This was getting him nowhere. Either Hermione’s soul reattachment had gone wrong, or she was under the effects of something. It had been over ten years since he had pulled her out of the darkness and reversed his vampirism, so any problems regarding that would have surfaced long ago. Severus was forced to conclude that his wife was under the effects of something concerning Voldemort, but what?

Severus quickly ran through his mental arsenal. He had refined many of his abilities as a Death Eater, and he wasn’t above using one or two if the situation called for it. Severus wasn’t sure how well Hermione would take being indirectly helped by Voldemort’s allies, but his Gryffindor wife would just have to deal with it. 

Severus released the chair’s hold on Hermione and helped her stand. Without a word, he undressed her, sat down where she had been and pulled her naked form onto his lap. He smoothed her bushy hair away from her face and looked into her eyes. 

He touched the tip of his wand to the cleft of her sex and whispered, “ _Legilimens Euphoria._ ”

It was Dark Magic, but his Slytherin heart felt that the ends justified the means. Besides, it was always easier to ask forgiveness rather than permission, even if you never received it.

_Always._

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Severus held his wand to Hermione’s heat, its glowing tip pouring magic into her core. She writhed and moaned; the sensation was like nothing she had ever felt before. Her clit was so engorged over half of it peeked out from its hood, and the vestigial glands surrounding her urethra pulsed, causing her to leak a steady stream of honey. Hermione was on the razor’s edge of a massive orgasm, and she involuntarily bucked her hips, the pleasure almost too much to bear. 

Severus pushed her to the limit and beyond, holding the spell so long that Hermione’s entrance opened of its own accord and begged to be filled. Her muscles and tissues strained against his magic, and tears ran down her cheeks. 

“Severus, for Merlin’s sake, please,” she stuttered, her whole body trembling. “It hurts…”

He leaned in, their noses almost touching. “Let me penetrate your mind, Hermione,” he purred, his enchanted voice adding to her tortured pleasure. “Let me in, and I’ll make it all better.” He flicked his wand.

Hermione came violently, screaming as jets of honey squirted from her heat. Every wall in her mind collapsed, and Severus easily drifted into the deepest recesses of her awareness. He quickly rifled through her childhood discovery of magic, her teenage shame as she touched herself to thoughts of her Potions Professor (he raised an eyebrow and filed that memory away for later discussion), and her adult cynicism when she took his last name because she loved him but gave the appearance it was only to save his life for The Cause. He slowed his pace as he came to what he wanted—her memory of his wet dream. 

It was as he suspected; a layer of dark energy was superimposed over the actual memory. Hermione was “remembering” what the dark energy told her to remember: her husband having an erotic dream about a lost love. 

Severus banished the dark energy from her mind, and what he saw was startling. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Hermione’s eyes snapped open. She had heard a muffled sound; months of being hunted while searching for Horcruxes had left her nervous regarding strange noises in the dark, and the passing years had not dulled the edge of her anxiety._

_A sharp pain shot through the left side of her chest. She sat up to grab her wand, but she froze when she reached out her left arm. A black inky substance had seeped through her nightshirt, and the fluid was oozing down to her left forearm._

_Droplets of inky darkness dripped out of her nose onto her shirt. Her eyes began to sting as black tears ran down her cheeks. Panicking, she reached over for Severus._

_“Hermione…”_

_Droplets of ink floated away from her nose and hung suspended in midair. She watched in fascinated horror as the mass grew to the size of her fist and then slammed into Severus’s Dark Mark. His cock hardened and tented the blankets; he began to thrust against them in his sleep._

_“Oh Hermione, yes, unnnhhhh….”_

_Just as Severus was about to come, the darkness moved from his Mark to the top of his blankets, but Hermione reached over and cupped his length, protecting him. She brushed against the underside of his cock, and Severus came in his sleep._

_“Herrrmmiionnnneeee…”_

_She kept her hand in place until the inky substance slunk away to the end of the bed. She felt a slight tickle, and when she looked down at her chest, the inky sludge had vanished._

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So he hadn't been having nocturnal emissions concerning Lily. Severus felt vaguely smug. He mentally shook himself and started thinking. What had he learned from her memory?

Many wizards could manifest Death Energy, but there was only one who could manifest Death Energy and bend it to his will: Voldemort.

Voldemort had manifested Death Energy and fed it to his followers. His acolytes had partaken of his Death Energy, their souls breathing life into the tainted sigils that formed on the undersides of their left forearms. His followers brandished their profane emblems and called themselves “Death Eaters,” a depraved cabal of unholy knights that had descended into madness and nearly destroyed the world. 

Severus’s face fell in dawning horror, and he felt sick. Dear Merlin, how had he been so fucking stupid? Voldemort hadn’t been able to manifest Death Energy until he had sundered his soul into Horcruxes. 

Hermione’s soul had nearly been split in two when Severus reattached it. 

He had to find the source, the instant where Hermione had manifested Death Energy of her own. If he wasn’t able to help her, his beloved wife was on a one-way trip to the Janus Thickey Ward. 

If she was able to control it, he would have to kill her.


	6. The Last Dream (Severus and Hermione)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus figures out what went wrong and finally heals his beloved wife.

Hermione’s head snapped up, thick black fluid running from her nostrils and ears. She moved with an unnatural speed and straddled Severus, pinning him into the chair. 

“You wish to see me dead, sorcerer?”

Severus shook his head. “I dearly wish to see you cured, Hermione, but I will eliminate you if necessary.”

An evil laugh, bitter and brittle, gurgled up from her throat. “I am as you made me, Severus. It’s only fitting that the creator destroys the creation.”

“I take full responsibility for your reattachment having gone wrong. Perhaps if I had studied a bit more—“

Hermione shrieked with rage. “The seed of darkness was planted long before then, Severus Snape!” Black liquid flew from Hermione’s lips and formed manacles, binding Severus to the chair. Hermione stood and moved back a step. Darkness was again leaking from her chest down to the underside of her left forearm. 

An unholy zephyr played through Hermione’s hair. She tilted her head and spoke, her voice deepened and doubled. “Would you like to see the moment you destroyed the one whom you lusted after in the hidden depths of your soul even as you imparted to her the subtle art of Potions?”

Severus inflated with disgust and righteous indignation. “I never lusted after a student!”

Hermione leaned over him, her arms on either side of his head, and whispered into his ear. “You lie.” She licked his ear, and a drop of dark liquid found its way inside. She leaned back and smiled.

“Now, dearest Severus, you and I shall witness the moment you planted the seed of hate and cruelty inside this woman’s lovely heart.”

Darkness began closing around Severus’s mind. Before it consumed him, he had the presence of mind to ask, “Hermione, who are you?”

Hermione smiled sadly, black tears running down her face. She softly stroked his hair as he fell into a dream. “I’m your wife.”

________________________________________

_**Fourteen Years Ago** _

The Great Hall was abuzz with the sound of excited students. Dumbledore had summoned them all, saying that it was of utmost importance that everyone be ready; for what, he didn’t say. 

The voices were nearly thunderous when Dumbledore performed a _Sonorus_ charm and cleared his throat. Silence fell as everyone covered their ears against the rough sound.

“There we are, very good. Now that I have your attention,” he beamed, seemingly unaware of the pain his auditory burst caused, “I have an announcement. As you all know, the situation between the Light and the Dark is coming to a head.”

He paused, but the room was silent. The Slytherins, whose numbers had been greatly thinned when Death Eaters pulled their children out of Hogwarts after Snape’s cover was blown, fidgeted nervously. 

“But,” he began again, “not all hope is lost. Professor Snape?” All eyes turned to the entrance of the Great Hall.

Professor Snape strolled in, levitating a large drape-covered object behind him. He stopped at the front of the tables and glanced at the Headmaster. “You’d better know what you’re doing, Albus,” he growled.

The bearded man smiled. “I always know what I’m doing, Severus, except for when I don’t.”

The Potions Master rolled his eyes in disgust and took his seat.

Dumbledore took out his wand and pointed it at the covered object. He moved his hands in a complex pattern and intoned:

_“Ego precor Pectus pectoris ut Pectus pectoris. Ostendo quisque suum perficio secui.”_

Blue light shot out of the Headmaster’s wand, destroying the drape and infusing the object it covered with a ghostly sheen. 

Murmurs of surprise and wonder erupted in the room. Dumbledore nodded and spoke again, his voice still amplified. “Yes, you are correct. This is the Mirror of Erised, but today it performs a different function.” He looked about the room. “Can anyone tell me what that is?”

Snape swore under his breath when Hermione’s hand shot up in the air.

Dumbledore shot a sideways glance at Snape and grinned. He turned around and held out his hand. “Yes, Miss Granger?”

Hermione stood up, trembling with excitement. “You have invoked the ‘Heart to Heart’ function of the mirror, Headmaster. The incantation translates as ‘I invoke the Heart to Heart. Show each one their perfect part.’” Ron snorted, and she smacked him so hard on the head his face landed in his potatoes; Snape hid a nasty grin behind his napkin. “I read about it in ‘Hogwarts: A History.’”

“Very good, Miss Granger. You may sit down.” 

Hermione took her seat. She was so excited at receiving public (public, dear Merlin, public!) praise from the Headmaster that she didn’t notice the murmuring of other students who knew something of the ancient spell.

The Headmaster addressed the rest of the students. “Miss Granger is correct. The ‘Heart to Heart’ charm is a very old protective spell. It binds two hearts together for the reasons of protection. It instills a magic between two people so that both people must be killed at once in order to kill both of them. For example,” he said as he strolled down between the student tables, “If one of you were bound to another by the ‘Heart to Heart’ charm, and you were killed, the other would always have the power to resurrect you.” 

Dumbledore looked around the room into eyes filled with amazement. “The charm only works once between you,” he explained as he walked back to the front of the Great Hall, “and you can choose the level of bonding.” He sat back down.

Professor Snape arose as the Headmaster sat. He walked down to the Mirror. “The three levels are ‘Friend,’ ‘Family,’ and ‘Foundation.’ You will each walk up to the Mirror and gaze within; the person you see is the person most in tune with your magical signature and thus the best partner.”

A list appeared in midair in front of Snape. “When I call your name, you will come here, gaze into the mirror, and tell me who appears. That person will then come up here so the two of you may discuss a bonding level.” He sneered. “You are all underage, so the ‘Foundation’ level will be unavailable to you since the Ministry regards a ‘Foundation’ bond as a legal marriage. Lower your hand, Miss Granger, I have no wish to hear what ‘Hogwarts: A History’ says about it.”

Hermione lowered her hand and bit her lip; she was of age due to her use of the Time Turner. “Professor, please, it’s important!”

“Enough!” Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Hermione bit her lip harder but remained quiet.

Shooting her a hateful smirk, the Potions Master returned to the floating list. “Everard, Edmund!”

A young Ravenclaw, no more than twelve, walked up to the Mirror. “Excuse me, Professor, but…”

Snape pulled up to his full height, outwardly sneering and inwardly grinning at how the child turned white with fear. “Yes, Mister Everard?” He raised an eyebrow. 

The poor child began to shake. “…um, well, um…”

“Well spit it out!”

Everard squeaked and blurted out, “I don’t come first alphabetically!” 

Snape’s mouth was a flat line. “Did I say the list was alphabetical?” he drawled, emphasizing each syllable.

The boy shook his head. “No sir,” he whispered.

“Then shut up and look in the damn mirror!”

Everard jumped and nearly fell, but when his gaze fell to the Mirror he froze. His face was suffused with light, and the Mirror sparkled beautifully. All fear was forgotten as he looked upon his Heart.

“Whom do you see, Mr. Everard?”

“I see Elliott Spooner.” A boy, a fellow Ravenclaw, got up from the table and joined Everard in looking at the Mirror.

Snape summoned a Self-Inking Quill and scribbled on the floating list. “Your level, if you please.”

“We’re family,” the boys said dreamily. A band of light connected their chests, and the contents of their hearts were copied upon one another.

Snape scribbled on the floating list again and nodded. “Fine; both of you may go.” He absently waved them away.

It went that way for student after student until finally Snape called out, “Miss Granger.” Nervously, Hermione rose up from her seat and approached the Mirror. 

She glanced at her Potions Professor. He was scribbling on his ever-growing list and not paying attention to her; perhaps she could quickly peek in the mirror without him seeing that all three options were open to her. 

“Why the sudden shyness, Miss Granger? You’re usually so eager to show off in my class.” He turned and raised an eyebrow at her. “Performance anxiety, perhaps?” He smirked and leaned in. “Perhaps the ‘Gryffindor Princess’ is still merely a cub without any claws.”

“Fine,” she said, gritting her teeth as her anger overtook her fear. “Just remember that you asked for it, Professor.”

“In…deed,” Snape purred.

She gave him one last dirty look before stepping up to the mirror. 

At first, nothing happened. Hermione was simply staring at herself. She was about to leave when the Mirror exploded in color. Every hue of the rainbow flashed and danced; sparks of light spilled out into the Great Hall, setting small fires where they landed. Teachers scattered to put out the flames.

“Whom do you see?” Snape called out.

Hermione was unable to answer; she was too absorbed by the Mirror. The colors which had been blasted forth earlier now coalesced into the glass, swirling into one another until they began to lose cohesion and blend into one color: a vibrant, swirling black. The picture cleared, and Hermione’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

“Miss Granger,” the Potions Professor shouted, “whom do you see?”

Hermione turned to him with dazed eyes. “I see only you.”

Snape was stunned. “Miss Granger, that’s impossible. You’d have to be—“

“An adult, Professor! That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier!” She held her arms out helplessly. “You wouldn’t listen to me!” 

“Yes, the ‘know-it-all’ knows it all, it seems,” he said spitefully. “So tell me, Miss Granger,” he said while raising his quill, “to what level of hell am I to be sentenced?”

It never dawned on her to be suspicious. It never occurred to her to ask why he was being so accommodating. She never thought to wonder why he didn’t fight it. 

“Voldemort will be out for you. He will hunt you down and kill you as surely as I’m standing here. We can’t have that; even though you’ve been discovered, you are still too valuable to the Cause.” She smiled at him sadly. “Foundation it is, then.”

A tendril of light shot out of the Mirror and enveloped both of them. Hermione’s heart was copied onto his, and Snape was shocked beyond words to feel her love for him. 

When his heart was copied over hers, something went wrong. A piece of Snape’s heart wouldn’t copy over.

Hermione cried out, clutching at her left breast. Pain radiated down her left arm and up into her jaw. She couldn’t breathe, and it felt like a hippogriff was on her chest. She slumped to the floor, and just before she passed out, she groaned, so low that no one heard her. “Lily.”

________________________________________

Severus awoke in the chair. He felt stiff, and his joints ached. He tried to move to relieve the tension, and he was pleased to note his chains were gone. 

Hermione was asleep on the floor, curled around his feet. She stirred when he pulled her up onto his lap, and she rested her head against his chest.

She sniffled. “All I wanted was to love you, Severus, but you never let me. I had to use the Dementor spell to bring you back because I knew you hadn’t given me all of your heart. A piece still belonged to Lily, and it always will.” She began to sob. “I’m so sorry I’m not her, Severus. I’m so sorry I’m just me.”

He caressed her curls. He had to do something, or she was going to break. 

“Hermione, listen to my heart. Relax and feel its rhythm.” 

She stilled a moment. _Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub_ went the beat. She could almost feel it through his chest. 

“Yes, that’s it. Feel how strongly it beats, how forcefully it pumps?” 

She nodded against his him.

“It beats for you, Hermione, and you alone.”

He picked her nude form up and carried her to their bed. He quickly stripped and stretched out beside her, careful to keep her close to his chest so she could feel his heart. He stroked down her back and up her side. 

He rolled her until she was atop him. His long arms caressed her back and the swell of her bottom in long, easy strokes. “Feel my heart, Hermione. Listen to how it thumps. Notice how it speeds up when I touch the sides of your lovely breasts.”

He sat up and put her on top of his outstretched legs. “Put your hand on my cock, Hermione. Feel my pulse at the base.” She gulped. “Feel how thick and hard you make me.”

He sat back and opened his arms. “I belong to no one else, dead or alive. I am yours, Hermione.” His dark eyes were blazing. “Do with me what you will.”

She hesitated.

“What do you want to do, Hermione? Take control, do to me what you wish.” His eyes were practically on fire. “I promise you I’ll enjoy it.”

Hermione hesitantly crawled forward. She straddled his hard length and then sank herself upon it. 

Severus gave a guttural wheeze. “Fuuuuck…”

“I have AL-ways WAN-ted to DO this to YOU,” she moaned, her syllables coming out loudly on her down-stroke. “EV-en in PO-tions CLASS I’ve WAN-ted YOU so MUCH.”

He sat up and enveloped her in his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. “I’m here now, Hermione. I’m here with you. I’m here holding onto you for dear life. Rage against me with your body, purge yourself, give me all your pain.” He bit her ear and whispered, “Fuck me with all you have, little girl.”

Hermione cried out. She slammed her pelvis down onto him over and over, her honey seeping out bit by bit as she neared her peak. Just before she went over the edge, Severus whispered an incantation and completed the copying process of his heart onto hers, repairing the damage that was done so many years ago.

The result was instantaneous. A concussion wave blasted through their room, and the black energy weeping from her body turned a brilliant white. Hermione screamed, and her core poured out molten light. Wave after wave of energy emanated from the young witch, and Severus held his beloved wife tightly as he spilled into her. 

“I am your husband, Hermione. I will love you forever.”

“Forever,” she breathlessly agreed.

_Forever_ , echoed the seed of light they had just planted.

 

_Fin_.


End file.
